Harry Potter and the Alter Ego
by Three of a kind
Summary: Harry is plagued with appearances of an alternate personality. But why? And what does Draco Malfoy have to do with it? (Possible)HPDM slash. Re-Vamped.


A/N: Yes, this story has been COMPLETELY revised, so do read and do review. Well, I may make this slash after all. Probably H/D. Just because I can. Besides, I think It'll add some good drama. Anyways, no it wasn't originally slash, but Isha let me revamp it and I made it mine… but they can still input.Heh heh....Anyways. Enjoy the story.

Signing Off,  
Isis-Ankh

**Harry Potter and the Alter Ego**

**Chapter one**

**By _Three of a Kind_:**

**_Isha, Rajah and Isis-Ankh_**

It was breakfast at Hogwarts on a Saturday morning and Harry Potter was painting his nails. To tell the truth, nobody knew why.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?!?" asked Ron. He looked appalled as he stared at the growing amount of bright green nail polish on his best friend's, obviously male, nails.

Harry shrugged, smiled slightly and replied, "I'm getting in touch with my feminine side." Ron made a strangled noise as Harry applied his last layer of polish to the nails on his left hand.

"Well, I think they look nice." Lavender Brown commented as she leaned over and looked onto his nails approvingly, nodding.

Harry thanked her before turning to Ron. "See Ron, some people like my nails." At this, Ron started to gag on his porridge and Harry shot him a glare.

Hermione stared perplexed at Harry's hands as he looked them over skeptically with his elbow propped on the table, trying to find a flaw so he could fix it. "Erm, Harry? Are you sure you're feeling all right?" she asked hesitantly.

Harry looked up and smiled at her. "Of course, darling, I've never been better!" Letting his hand go limp, looking quite like a stereotypical homosexual.

"Harry, I think you'd better go to the hospital wing… I'd bet the shock of losing Sirius has finally made you crack up." whispered Ron, now really looking worried.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" said Harry, now getting mad. Any mention of Sirius gave Harry a pang of guilt. He tried and tried, but he couldn't get over his involvement in his godfather's death. And really, he believed he never should.

Harry stood from the table and stalked up to the common room before Ron and Hermione could even try to reason with him. Back at the common room, Harry's mood changed very rapidly from anger to grief. He found himself silently crying before he even reached his dorm.

With a longing look at the fire where his godfather's head had appeared a few years before to give him advice on how to fight a dragon, he retreated to the sixth year boy's dorm. He collapsed on his bed and sobbed until he just couldn't anymore. For a while he was blissfully numb, but the angry thoughts came back and he found himself glaring tiredly at his pillow.

_Why'd he have to die?_, he thought savagely. _Why did Bellatrix Lestrange have to kill him? _He cried again, but these were tears of anger. Furious tears which burned his face as he screamed into his pillows.

Someday, somehow, somewhere, he vowed to himself, he was going to destroy Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. The other death eaters were just as hateful, but Harry's personal grudges came first in his mind. The next time he even set eyes on her, he was going to kill her. No frills, no torture. Just revenge for his godfather.

Harry was still screaming into his pillows when Ron entered uncertainly. "Harry? Harry, I'm sorry I said anything about Sirius. I forgot how-"

"I am _not_ sensitive!" Harry cut in, growling dangerously. "Just because I paint my nails does _not_ mean I'm sensitive!"

"It's just that, whenever somebody mentions Sirius, you get so moody." Ron said hesitantly, obviously not knowing when to let the matter drop. He glanced at Harry and cringed. That look could have killed him had the dagger's he'd been glaring been real. Ron turned and fled from the room.

Harry sighed and leaned back against his pillow_. I am not moody_, he thought. Though in the back of his mind, something said _He can't blame me for being upset when he mentions my **dead godfather**, for Merlin's sake. _Harry rolled back over and fell asleep, even though it was still the very beginning of the day.


End file.
